Saturday, October 6, 2012

Some Things Never Change

Frye Measure Mill, NH
I got a laptop a few months ago to replace my old, sluggish desktop and give me freedom to write wherever I liked.  When I first transferred files to the new computer, I purged redundant photos.  Now, I am going through some of the documents.

This morning, I came across some journal writings.  While I prefer hand-writing them, there are times when my book isn't with me and I resort to computer entries.  One file, 105 pages long, was from 1993 when I still had Creative NeedleArts and would write at work after everyone left.  It was password protected and I had a moment of panic - that was nineteen years ago!  I had a universal password then and I tried it - I'm in.

Some things apparently don't change. My laments are pretty much the same.  That doesn't mean I haven't moved forward.  It just means that my creative concerns have a fallback reason for being.  Time and a plethora of ideas.

I constantly have ideas crowding my brain about other things to design and get into.... I am driven (but why?) to create new ideas; I'm just frustrated by the restrictions of time.  I keep pushing the parameters of time. 

I can guarantee that I have sung this song many times over the years.  My interests are expansive; my ideas for paintings, writing and needlework are like a fountain which never turns off.  I read voraciously.  I have messy closets.  I desperately need to have a yard sale.  My art supplies are ordered, though, so my priorities are straight in one respect.  

It occurs to me that a creative mind can be one's bane of existence as well as its blessing.  

Have I finally reached the point in my life when I accept the activity in my head, knowing I cannot act on all of it?  Writing down notes and ideas keeps them from disappearing in the crowd.  I can get them back to the top of the pile anytime I want.  

Relishing my varied interests is delectable.  Worrying over the lack of time to explore them all isn't.  Today I immerse myself in the ones on the top of my pile.

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